I was talking to a friend of mine telling him about a toxic relationship I had been in. I didn’t realize how heavy my story sounded until he asked, “Damn, Queen, how did you heal from that?” No one had ever asked that before and I had never thought about the depth of pain in my story. I told him I guess over time, but I don’t even know if that’s all the way true.
I come from a lineage of strong black women and no matter what life throws us, we had to keep it together and move forward. Let the past be the past and not dictate the future. Yes, they are strong, but I say this sarcastically because it’s a term we use to describe Black women as if we all have to carry this 500-lb baggage and not cry through the pain. It’s ok to cry and break down. Although many Black women were raised to be this way, I also noticed most of the women in my family are single, in broken relationships, are not looking to get married or try it again for the sake of being hurt again, I’m assuming.
You take what you have, bury it, and push through. Now, I don’t always agree with this but it’s how Black culture has been for a while and what I know to do. I can hear my family now, “Don’t ever let anyone have that much power over you to break you.” While that’s true, it may also be why I’m still single to this day with no children but that’s a story for another time.
In the Black community, we’re all too familiar with the saying, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” I’ve always understood that to mean when life brings you pain, use that fuel to ignite the passion in you. That’s what I did for my situation and that’s what a lot of our Black people have to do in our culture. Take the strength of your pain and build with it until you’ve created a legacy. God gives beauty for ashes. So come… sit… make a toast to the fruits of your labor and take a sip of My Black Lemonade.
